


Literature of Love under Construction

by callunavulgari



Series: Crossover Drabble Meme Collection [7]
Category: Death Note, Homestuck, Kingdom Hearts, Merlin (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Supernatural, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of crossover drabbles from various fandoms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Literature of Love under Construction

**Author's Note:**

> Fifteen Words Meme
> 
> 01: Karkat Vantas [Homestuck] 06: Red [Once Upon a Time]  
> 02: Castiel [Supernatural] 07: Morgana [Merlin]  
> 03: Regina [Once Upon a Time] 08: Matt [Death Note]  
> 04: Dave Strider [Homestuck] 09: Nico di Angelo [Percy Jackson]  
> 05: Axel [Kingdom Hearts] 10: Loki Odinsson [Avengers]

**1\. Last kiss, 1 and 9 (Karkat Vantas and Nico di Angelo)**  
You know nothing of games like this. During your forty year childhood, there were endless games. Card games, board games, arcade games—you had Mythomagic and your sister, and you don't even remember most of it. Just one long haze of greens and golds and laughter.  
  
Nothing prepared you for this.  
  
Nothing prepared you for the end of the world or god tiers or _trolls_ , but that's what you get. You're a son of Hades, a demigod who can move the earth and speak to ghosts, but you're also a Prince of Doom. A different kind of class all together, where you could either destroy doom or cause destruction _through_ doom. You don't understand it very much, which is why you aren't the leader. That's what Percy and Annabeth are for, the Knight of Hope and the Maid of Mind. They're the important ones, not you, no matter what your patron troll has told you.  
  
In the end, it doesn't matter, because it never mattered if you were prepared or not. The game was always going to chew you all up and spit you out, whether in pieces or whole and safe is completely up to chance.  
  
Your patron troll glowers at you, the green sun's light reflected in his huge eyes.  
  
"You don't have to do this," he tells you, blood across his chin.  
  
You shrug. You really don't _have_ to do this, but you figure this is their best hope of getting out, and from what you know about both the doom aspect and children of Hades' is that you all do self sacrifice really well. "Sure I do," you tell him, because it's easier to look at him than it is to look at Percy or Annabeth. They aren't dead, but they won't remember this moment. They won't remember your glorious triumph, the one time that you saved _them_ from the stupid shit instead of the other way around.  
  
Karkat keeps on glowering at you, but after a moment he sighs and takes a step toward you. The kiss he presses to your brow is swift and soft, the kind of kiss that Bianca would have given you, but it makes red flood his cheeks anyway. You wonder if he pities you, if he's got pale or red inclinations or whatever the hell trolls call love. You guess it doesn't matter in the end though.  
  
"Take care of them, if this doesn't work and we don't all come out on the other side, they're going to be pretty messed up."  
  
He snorts softly. "Trust me, I know how your leader will feel if you burn yourself up for nothing."  
  
You remember all the dead trolls he told you about, and think that he probably would. He takes a half a step back, and you focus on the ground beneath your feet, the dead beneath its soil. It's not quite the same as your father's kingdom, but the dead don't discriminate. They come when you call.  
  
The earth starts to shake apart and your head starts to pound. You can do this.  
  
In that last moment, he smiles at you. A flash of fang that's more smirk than anything. "I'll see you on the other side," he tells you.  
  
"Let's hope so."  
  
 **2\. Dream, 4 (Dave Strider)**  
When you're playing the game, dreams are never just dreams. But sometimes, sometimes you don't slip into Derse or dream bubbles—instead you end up with the taste of blood on your teeth and your Bro bleeding out in front of you. Thousands of dead Dave's and John's and Rose's and Jade's. Dead trolls painting the floor rainbow. You wake in a cold sweat and the worst part of it—the very worst part is that for a few moments, you don't know if it was a dream or if it was reality.  
  
 **3\. Threesome, 2, 5, and 6 (Castiel, Axel, and Red)**  
"Little Red Riding Hood, huh?" the demon says, licking his lips and flashing a hint of fang. His hair is the same bright red of your coat, a splash of color in the dark monochrome landscape. You scowl at him, let your eyes go golden and your mouth fill with fangs.  
  
When you snarl at him, he laughs at you.  
  
The angel watches you both warily, like he's used to this behavior. Who knows, maybe he is.  
  
All you know is that you are locked in a room with a demon and an angel, and no one is coming for you. "And who are you?" the demon asks, leering in the angel's direction. "The little angel who could?"  
  
The angel cocks his head at the demon. "My name is Castiel."  
  
"And mine is Axel," the demon purrs, trailing a hand down Castiel's arm. "Got it memorized?"  
  
"I can see your true face," the angel tells him, eyes going hard. "I can burn you out of that human faster than you could blink. I would advise you not to touch me."  
  
Instead of being cowed, the demon—Axel—throws his head back and _laughs_. "Trust me, angel. _Burning_ doesn't scare me."  
  
 **4\. Color, 3 and 8 (Regina and Matt)**  
"Hatter," the Evil Queen calls, painted lip curled into a sneer. You go to her, because you have nothing else that you _can_ do, not in this prison of a fake world. When you drop to a knee before her, she grabs a fistful of your hair, knocking the hat from your head and yanking until your eyes water.  
  
"Where is your _Alice_? Where is Mihael?" she hisses, and you want to laugh at her—spit in her face—maybe blow her brains out. You affect a puzzled look, let it paint your face into what you're supposed to be in this world. Just some high school kid who has no idea what she's talking about. You think of Mihael, your _Mello_ here. Blond hair and angry eyes and black leather. You think, _I'll never let you find him._  
  
"Madame Mayor," you tell her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
 **5\. Angst, 7 and 10 (Morgana and Loki)**  
"M'lady," he breathes mockingly against your knuckles. You allow him the kiss, because Uther is watching, but your insides feel pulled taut. He reeks of magic, green eyes dancing. Idly, you wonder if Morgause sent him to you. But no, you think. She wouldn't endager you like that, wouldn't risk your plans by sending some sorcerer into the heart of Camelot.  
  
"My lord," you breathe, inclining your head a fraction of an inch.  
  
Merlin has gone stiff at Arthur's side and as you watch, his fingers tremble. Let him shake, you think. Let him think that this man who reeks of power is your minion.  
  
"Loki of Asgard, at your service," he whispers, his lips unmoving, just his voice in your head, like velvet.  
  
Later, you will sit with him, and he will tell you who he is. He will tell you of Asgard and his kin and teach you _his_ brand of magic, trickery and shadows and too much power. He will take his leave as you sit against the flagstones, your chest heaving.  
  
And far later, when there's a sword in your gut and Merlin looking down at you in pity, you will meet a girl who looks like him, half of her face the very picture of beauty and the other half decomposing, flesh sloughing from her skin. She will crouch before you and smile, and you will think of how very much she looks like you. "Father sent me," she will tell you, touching a cold hand to your cheek as Merlin hefts Arthur to his feet, already taking you for dead.  
  
"Did he now," you breathe as she cups your face.  
  
She nods. "I've come to take you to your rest, Morgana. In my kingdom, you will be a queen."  
  
 **6\. End, 5 (Axel)**  
You are foolish and you are in love. Age has no jurisdiction for a nobody, but you think if it mattered you would be in your early twenties. So really, you are three cliches: you are young and foolishly in love. If you had a heart, you think it would speed up in your chest when you see him. As it is, your throat just closes up, your breath going ragged when the sun catches against wayward strands of golden hair.  
  
You watch him grow, watch as becomes something that's less of a zombie and more of a _person._ As his expressions go animated, his eyes bright and blue and so very _alive_ that your breath catches in your throat. You have to lay a hand over his ribs before you remember and he eyes you, puzzled. You laugh it off, because that's what you do. That's the person you are to him. To Roxas, you aren't an assassin or a killer or anything other than a man—his friend. The rest of the Organization thinks you're going soft for a pair of brats, but that's the thing. You think you always were soft. You think that when you were Lea you found beauty in sunsets and flowers and birdsong in the morning. You think you were the type of person to walk a little girl home mid-day because you didn't want anything to happen to her.  
  
It's Axel that's the imposter, the boy turned monster that Xemnas cultivated himself. With Roxas, you aren't the monster. You're the man that Lea could have been.  
  
When Roxas walks away from you, rain catching in his lashes and "No one would miss me" on his lips. Well. You forget.  
  
You look for him. Of course you do. He's your best friend and you love him so very much. Saix laughs at you, eyes cold and hard, and you can't find a trace of Isa in him. Not anymore.  
  
When you find Roxas, he doesn't remember you. Then when he finally does, it's too late.  
  
You don't understand emotion, don't know why your chest is tight and your vision blurred. You just know that he beats you. And then he's gone. The end, no more Roxas, no more Lea, no more _Axel_ ; just a monster and a boy with Roxas' face.  
  
For a while, you try to be a monster. You toy with turning the boy into a heartless again just to have Roxas back with you, but in the end, you can't. Even when Roxas isn't Roxas, he still makes you so very _human._  
  
You die for him, because you are young and foolishly in love.  
  
Then you wake up on the other side, Lea again, heart thumping in your chest and a mantra of _RoxasRoxasRoxas_ in your head. You go to him—to the boy who both is and isn't Roxas, and you hurt.  
  
When the keyblade comes for you, Sora eyes you with wonder, and you think that somewhere deep inside of him, Roxas is watching you.  
  
You are young and foolishly in love, and this is not the end.  
  
 **7\. Rule, 4 and 8 (Dave Strider and Matt)**  
The kid you pick up is young enough that it makes you feel kind of skeevy. Fifteen at most, you think, and out of his mind on drugs or something. Such a tiny little blond thing, shades askew and limbs akimbo, sprawled all over your chest and slobbering into your clavicle. The smart thing to do would be to let him sleep it off and take him home, but you aren't known for your morals. Chaotic neutral and all that jazz. You might save somebody, but you might blow up a couple cars.  
  
You're already going to hell, so you let the kid lick his way into your mouth, let him grind his hips against yours. He mumbles things into your mouth, things about games and saving the world and you think it's all nonsense. He goes on and on about time, and when you push him down so he can wrap his wet little mouth around your dick, it's mostly just to shut him up so you stop feeling so guilty.  
  
Later, he'll look at you—shades gone and eyes shockingly red, more shrewd and sober than you think _yours_ are right now and he'll tell you, "I helped remake the world last month."  
  
You'll pause, hand still on his dick, and think of how old he looks in that moment. You won't know what to say, and after a moment, his face will crumple and he'll sob, "And I left the most important things behind."  
  
 **8\. Explode, 1 and 2 (Karkat Vantas and Castiel)**  
"Close your eyes," the angel tells you, and you think of protesting, but before you can gather your thoughts he starts getting _brighter_ —light so intense that your eyes snap shut on instinct.  
  
Even with your eyes closed, the light _burns._  
  
 **9\. AU, 3 and 9 (Regina and Nico di Angelo)**  
 **-Wherein Hades is Regina and Emma is Persephone and the Underworld is not quite Storybrooke-**  
Your mother is not what you expected. People talk of Hades as if she's evil, like she's the worst of the godesses. Powerful, most definitely, but _good_ isn't something associated with the Goddess of the Underworld. Your mother may not be good, but she's far from evil. You aren't blind to the fact that she loves you—to the way she loves _all_ of her children.  
  
The Underworld itself is dreary with a lack of sunlight, but it's far from the nightmare realm people have made it out to be. Your mother grows apples in the Fields of Elysium, and they're bright red and taste of sunlight and crisp summer days. You pass the days with Persephone, because if there's one thing that's truly _alive_ in the Underworld, it's her. With her blonde hair and impish smile, she brings happiness to the darkest of worlds—but what's more is that she makes your mother happy. She makes your mother's painted lips curl into a soft smile, dark eyes gone soft.  
  
You don't know their true history, if your mother really tricked her there or if Persephone came of her own free will. But you do know that they love each other, even if it's a kind of love where they occasionally throw dishware at each other.  
  
Persephone teaches you more than anyone how to be a good person, and you think, just maybe, she's taught your mother to do the same.  
  
 **10\. Alone, 6 (Red)**  
Storybrooke is too small for you. You dream of fame, of traveling, of one day getting _out_ , but there's always something that stops you from crossing the town limits. Your grandmother tells you that you dress like a drag queen, that you're inappropriate with the customers and you hear all the little unspoken worlds.  
  
Storybrooke is too small and you feel so alone.


End file.
